I saw your trail on the brown earth
Red streaks, mapping your ordeal,
Pausing in longer shadows then others.
Your paw prints telling me to beware
And not to approach – if seen.
The blood had not yet dried
In the intense heat
So you were close.
Moving cautiously in a wide circle,
Away in another direction
But remaining upwind;
I listened,
Knowing that even in your condition,
You were still capable of attack,
And that I was now the hunted,
Wounded, by fear.

© Fingleton (Septembre 2016) (Löst Viking)

2 thoughts on “Wounded

  1. John A Fingleton Post author

    Vijay, you have always been kind and generous with your comments …even on my most “fragile poems”. Your kindness outshines all other academic analysis.

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